Mentalist Episode Tag: Where in the World? 4x6
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Jane and Lisbon discover a new facet of their relationship. Spoilers, 4x6.  Friendship/ humor. No copyright infringement intended.


A/N: While I enjoyed the glimpse into Lisbon's familial relationships, I couldn't help feeling something was missing from this episode. Upon viewing it the second time, I realized it was Jane. I really had wanted to see Jane and Tommy interacting, commiserating even. Oh, well. Lisbon has two other brothers; maybe someday…In the meantime, I tried to supply another missing piece left out of this episode. Lisbon so needed another hug there at the end, don't you think?

**Episode Tag: Where in the World is Carmine O'Brien?, 4x06**

As Lisbon watched Tommy walk away, she wiped at her welling eyes with the backs of shaking hands. Now, with an unobstructed view of the bullpen, she met the fascinated eyes of Patrick Jane. He'd obviously witnessed the whole scene between her and her brother, and if she weren't so shaken up by the experience, she would have been mortified that he'd caught her crying so unprofessionally in the hallway of the CBI.

But it was too late to pretend she hadn't seen him, so she met his eyes bravely, willing herself to face him as he set down his cup and saucer and rose gracefully from his couch. But as he approached her, his expression was so kind and understanding, that, by the time he stood before her, Lisbon's stoicism melted, and she allowed him to pull her into his arms for one of his rare, comforting hugs.

"No one else is here," he murmured into her hair. "Let it all out."

They were both equally surprised when she did.

Jane held her as he felt her quiet sobs against the lapel of his suit coat, and he patted her back and hair in an attempt to calm and soothe. Her crying jag lasted exactly two minutes, then she stepped back self-consciously, wiping at her face again in annoyance. From his inside coat pocket Jane produced a snowy white handkerchief, the initials _PJ _expensively monogrammed in one corner. It was obviously a relic from his hedonistic past, but she took it gratefully, dabbing at her drying tears and wiping at her nose.

He smiled gently. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he told her.

She snorted into his handkerchief. "Of course you did."

His smile widened. "Of course I did." He studied her a moment, noting her puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. "Come, Lisbon, you need tea." He took her arm and guided her to the break room. He settled her into a chair and refilled the electric kettle, setting it to heat as he leaned against the counter, facing her.

"It's hard to push them out of the nest once and for all, isn't it?" he said casually.

"Tommy's been out of the nest for a long time now," she countered, looking down at the piece of soft linen, her thumb absently tracing the embroidered letters.

"Once a parent, always a parent."

She looked up at him in sudden irritation. "You got any more helpful platitudes in there?"

He chuckled softly. "I got a million of them. But remember, platitudes originate from a place of truth…Hey, I just made that one up."

A small laugh escaped against her will, but she sobered immediately. "I'm not his parent, Jane."

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not," she protested.

"You took care of your little brothers, didn't you? Tucked them in bed at night, forged their field trip permission slips? Made sure they did their homework?"

She nodded, and he shrugged, having proven his point. "Parent," he stated matter-of-factly.

She sighed. "I just don't want him to screw up his life. Or Annabeth's."

"Nothing you can do about that."

"I think I liked the platitudes better," she commented wryly.

"Look, Lisbon, it's probably very easy for you to still think of them as children when they live so far away from you. That's why it's always such a shock when you see them and they're fully grown, with kids of their own. Hell, woman, the only picture I've ever seen of your brothers is when they're preadolescent. When I finally met Tommy, I couldn't believe how big he'd gotten."

"Shut up," she said, but without malice. When he was right, he was right, and there was no sense in trying to refute him. She sighed.

"So, what do you suggest I do about it?"

"Put out the big boy pictures, Lisbon. They've all probably sent you Christmas photos with the kids. Buy some frames and surround yourself with their mature faces, then use some of those years' worth of stored vacation days and go visit them more often."

"You think that would help?" she asked skeptically.

"Maybe. But, as I said, once a parent…"

The water was boiling, and he set about preparing her tea, finding in the cupboard one of the fruity varieties she enjoyed, then a mug instead of a proper teacup. He added about three teaspoons of sugar—grimacing to himself as he did so—and placed the concoction before her. She thanked him and began dunking the teabag. He sat across from her and waited for her to pick up the conversation again, knowing that there was still more she needed to get off her chest tonight.

"I wish I could have just been their sister," she said softly. "That when we did see each other once a year, we could reminisce about the good times, the teasing, the pranks, the trouble we used to get into—but we didn't have many of those times, at least not after Mom died. Instead, when I do visit, they act all uncomfortable, and their wives behave like their fussbudget mother-in-law is visiting. I'm afraid I'm just a reminder of my brothers' past too." Her expression became sheepish, apologetic. "Sorry. I don't like to indulge in self-pity."

"Don't worry about it; you're talking to the master here." His lips quirked in self-deprecation, of which he was also the master.

She sipped her tea, then reached for a sugar packet on the table before her. The action made him grin affectionately. For once he didn't comment on how she had the bad habit of ruining a perfectly acceptable cup of tea.

"I like your brother," Jane said, changing the subject a little. He could tell she was ready to move past her few moments of weakness. "He has chutzpah. Very clever the way he synced into your phone—like something I would do."

"Yes," she agreed. "Which is one reason I was so furious with him." It suddenly struck her as amusing, and she found herself chuckling. "I guess that's one new prank we can reminisce about next time I'm at his house for Christmas."

"See?"

She looked at Jane's smiling face, his eyes sparkling with shared humor, and came to a monumental realization. She _did_ have someone with whom she could discuss past teasing, pranks and scrapes they'd gotten into. Somehow, over the years, Jane had unwittingly stepped in to fill the space of brother in her life. Like siblings, they'd had their petty, childish arguments, their shared inside jokes, and she'd even resorted to violence when he'd pissed her off badly enough. They were protective of each other, plotted behind the backs of authority figures, and covered each other's back to save one another from trouble. Lisbon didn't know why she'd never seen him in this light before, but suddenly it was very obvious what had happened with their relationship.

"You never had any siblings, did you?" she asked him.

"No, just your stereotypical, overly-indulged, only child."

She smiled. From the little she knew of his past, Patrick Jane's upbringing had been anything but stereotypical. Overly-indulged probably wasn't too far from the truth, however.

"You would have made a fun older brother," she said, and watched how his grin froze in place a moment, and she saw that she'd genuinely touched him.

"Thanks, Teresa," he said finally, his grin once again authentic, the amused sparkle returning. "And boy, would I have loved pulling your pigtails until you screamed."

She chuckled. "You do that on a daily basis Jane, at least metaphorically speaking."

"I suppose you're right," he said, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Finally, Lisbon sighed and took a last sip of tea, rising to take her cup to the sink. She stifled a yawn, then held out his damp handkerchief.

"Thanks," she said warmly, and she meant for more than the use of his hankie.

"Keep it," he replied knowingly. "You might need it again later."

Their eyes met again in understanding, and she nodded briefly, then slipped the white linen into her pocket.

"You going home?" she asked him.

"In a little while," he said. "I think I'll try some of that atrocious tea of yours."

"It's much better after four lumps," she advised helpfully.

He didn't hide his grimace this time. "An abomination, Lisbon, truly."

She laughed and walked by him on her way to the hallway, but stopped short as a sudden pain wracked her scalp. "Ow!" she yelped in surprise.

Jane had yanked a lock of her long hair in passing, and she grabbed her head instinctively, looking upon his now innocent face. Then she grinned mischievously.

"I'm gonna tell Wainright on you," she whined.

"You can't prove anything," he said childishly, coming to his feet to tower over her.

"You just wait, Patrick Jane, you'll be sorry for that." She poked his puffed-out chest a couple of times for emphasis.

He grinned. "I sincerely doubt it."

They shared a look of pure understanding and gratitude, neither of them wanting to trade their unconventional relationship for anything. Jane returned to the kettle to reheat it back to boiling as Lisbon headed to her office to get her things.

"'Night, sis," he said softly. He hadn't intended for her to hear that, but when he heard her distant reply, he was touched beyond measure. All at once, he realized he wasn't quite as alone in the world as he'd thought.

"'Night, big brother."

Jane picked up a napkin, suddenly wishing he had kept hold of his handkerchief.

**The End**

I'd like to dedicate this to all of you who have brothers, older, younger, adopted or otherwise. I personally was blessed with four really great ones.

See you next week!


End file.
